


Hold Me Until I Don't Hurt

by blueboxchick



Series: Within Those Nineteen Years [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxchick/pseuds/blueboxchick
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts scarred Neville, physically and otherwise. Recovery is slow, painful, and not something he's ready to take on. He needs someone to talk to, someone who won't judge, someone who will actually just listen for once. Luna fits the bill.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, it a few months after the battle, everyone is having lots of sex, and Neville needs to cry, and yell, and maybe get off. I promise it's more eloquent than it sounds.  
> Probably will end up being a two-shot.

July heat in Devon County, Neville was fairly sure, was the worst in England.  
  
The sun was beating down hard on the green patch of hills and yard behind the Burrow. The half of Neville’s leg that wasn’t covered by his rolled up trousers was stinging with the starts of a sun burn and he quickly ducked under the crooked awning.  
  
He watched Ron run across the grass with one of Hermione’s books, saying something about how it’s much too summery to have her nose buried in a five hundred year old text. Hermione’s brow crinkled as she chased him, shooting back that Ron is an absolute git.  
  
“You alright?” Ginny asked, pulling her broom out the back door with her. Neville smiled. A quidditch game would be refreshing to watch.  
  
“Yeah. Sun’s a bit much, is all.”  
  
“Don’t I know it,” Ginny pointed to a string of freckles on her nose, “Will you play?” Neville gulped at the idea of sports.  
  
“Ah, no. I’d just make an arse of myself.” Ginny gave him a polite laugh and patted his shoulder as she trotted off to get a game going. Harry pushed up from the grass as soon as she had so much as looked his way, nearly tripping over his feet in his eagerness. Ron sped over to get in on the game, letting Hermione’s book fall from his hands. Hermione was quick to catch it and search for her place with the ferocity of a buzzing bee. Ron grabbed his broom from the side of the house and the game kicked off.  
  
This had been their tradition for the past few weeks. They met at the Burrow every Friday, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione, and tried to keep Hogwarts, the way it used to be, alive in some way. George would leave his room and participate here and there, looking like a Dementor sucked him dry, Angelina always in tow. Hermione and Ginny had pushed for the Friday’s hard, but everyone knew they needed them. After the battle, with everyone they had lost, it felt better when they were with each other. Lessened the stench of death that hung after Voldemort’s defeat, especially around them, considering they all nearly led the war. Neville was just happy to have friends and plans outside sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to decipher the last year of his life.  
  
Molly came out to the yard half way through the game with a pitcher of lemonade. She came to Neville first, probably since he was alone and pressed against the wall, instead of swirled up in the action.  
  
“Want some, love?” Molly asked, but she had already flicked her wand at the pitcher and it was pouring a glass for him. He nodded nonetheless.  
  
“How’s your Gran?”  
  
“Ah, um, good, I guess. Think she likes having me around to do the tidying,” Neville mumbled. Molly chuckled. He caught the glass that was floating at him, and in taking a sip, found that Molly’s lemonade actually did help the insufferable sun, a little.  
  
“This is healing up a bit, hm?” Molly’s hand came in contact with Neville’s forehead to graze a thumb over his scar that stretched from his hair line to his temple, and a wince of long gone but not forgotten pain hit him. Molly sucked in her lip, brow furrowing, “Oh my, sorry.”  
  
“Um, it’s healing up, yeah,” Neville said. There was a tense silence, both too much for them to speak about. Molly softened first, sighing into a smile.  
  
“I’m sure it will be almost gone by the end of summer,” Molly said, rubbing her hand on his cheek. Molly had sort of started to feel like a mum to Neville, to all of them he was sure, and he was beyond grateful for her.  
  
“Yeah.” He smiled back to her sheepishly. Molly brought the pitcher back to her grasp and moved through the yard.  
  
“Luna, dear, lemonade?” she yelled over the noise of the game, “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ginny, don’t holler like that!”  
  
“I’d love some Mrs. Weasley. Thank you,” Luna said. She was off from the game, as well, and had wandered off to the Weasley’s fruit trees in their garden, fingertips gliding across an apple. Molly sent a glass her way.  
  
“Your trees are quiet lovely this summer. Their auras are beaming,” Luna hummed in Molly’s direction. Neville stifled a laugh as Molly’s face screwed up at the comment. Neville didn’t exactly understand what Luna had meant either, but her ramblings had become more endearing lately. Maybe it was his prolonged exposure.  
  
“Ah, yes. Certainly. Very . . . bright auras,” Molly said, before turning back to the game, “Lemonade, anyone?”  
  
The game paused for refreshments, but not without Ron shouting that Ginny was a cheating arse. Luna crossed to where Neville sat, and Neville straightened up.  
  
“Good game?” Luna said. Her voice was lofty as always. She settled herself criss cross on the lawn chair next to Neville. Her dress was spaghetti strapped and Neville could see the backs of her boney shoulders peaking out from her almost inconceivably long hair. This paired with her radish looking earrings and floral print flouncy sundress made Neville think she looked like a nymph run away from the forest.  
  
“Mostly. Though, I dunno if they’re really playing a game. It’s more just Harry and Gin teaming up against Ron,” he said. Luna released a hum and leaned back onto her chair. Neville found himself briefly caught up in looking at her hair. Her chair was close enough that stray strands of platinum clung to his shoulder. It smelled like fruits he didn’t know, probably something with an exotic name from a far off forest full of creatures she wrote of in the Quibbler. He shook himself out of it and tried to focus on the game.  
  
“Ginny’s very talented, isn’t she?” Luna said, and Neville mumbled a ‘yep’. Luna turned back to him abruptly, eyes looking almost alien like and startling Neville with their eerie stare, “I like your hair the way you wear it now. Chic.”  
  
Neville blushed. Even if he was beginning to understand Luna and take her comments with a smile, she still managed to knock him off kilter. He fixed his hair, which was nearly as long and shaggy as Harry’s. He hadn’t cut in months. Hair didn’t seem to matter much for a while. Maybe he would cut it soon, though, if it was getting to the point where people pointed it out. He pulled a tight smile and Luna sighed a yawn, turning away.  
  
The game concluded with no score, just a fight between Ginny and Ron about who had won. The group came together for the first time that Friday, circling up in the grass and letting the sun hit them full on.  
  
Luna was sprawled fully in the greenery, back against the ground and hair twirling around clumps of blades. Neville again was overwhelmed by how otherworldly and mystical she looked, like she could almost fade right into the dirt and grass.  
  
“Do you reckon you guys’ll go back for seventh year? McGonagall made a big fuss about it at the last Hogwarts rebuild,” Ginny asked. Neville thought he might go back as well, even if he was at school nearly all last year. He felt he deserved it, a year for the year that was not really school, not really being a kid. He wondered if Luna would have to make up the time she lost in Malfoy Manor, but he wouldn’t mention that to her, ever. That was something no one asked her and Dean about, just like no one asked Hermione about her scars from Bellatrix or George about Fred. Certain things were known to be ignored.  
  
“I won’t!” Ron spat, “I think I’ve learned enough, considering.” Hermione bit her lip.  
  
“But what about your exams? How do you expect do have a decent career without NEWT scores?” she asked, obviously already decided that she would be in attendance for the full year. Ron huffed, shaking his head.  
  
“Mione, I fought alongside Harry bleeding Potter in the Battle of Hogwarts. Pretty sure that gives me a pass to any job I want. Besides, don’t need an exam to work with George at his shop.” Hermione’s eyes bulged garishly, and Neville worried it might hurt.  
  
“Oh don’t tell me you’re still on about that? Ron, really-“  
  
Neville tuned out mostly. These fights repeated often, the same cycle of five or six topics. This was the third time he had heard the one about the joke shop.  
  
“Merlin, you think they’d be sick of it, too, by now,” Ginny murmured. She was half laying on Harry, her leg tossed over his thigh. Harry was buried in her shoulder.  
  
“I think the fact that they go at it like rabbits after this one helps keep it a bit fresher,” Harry chuckled. Ginny slapped his arm, but she smirked still, and leaned to his touch at the mention of sex. Luna looked over to them, giggling in light bursts, though Neville wasn’t certain if she got what Harry was alluding to.  
  
Neville was very aware of the ravenous love making of Ron and Hermione. Ron had gushed to him about it over a sleepover at the Burrow a week or so back, gloating that the woman couldn’t keep her hands off him. Harry told him to sod off, since they were all fairly certain Hermione would murder him if she heard Ron talk like that, but Harry later confessed to Neville that he and Ginny were just as bad, spending most days sneaking under Molly and Arthur’s nose to fuck.  
  
It wasn’t hard to see. Harry wasn’t even hiding that he was sucking on Ginny’s neck. Neville went hot watching them press against each other, some combination of an ancient crush on Ginny and a desperate need to get off.  
  
“Gin and I are gonna, ah, uh. We are gonna help Molly in the kitchen,” Harry said, barely with his lips off Ginny’s skin. They rushed off into the house, adrenaline and hormonal horniness dripping off them. Neville snorted a laugh.  
  
He spared a look to Ron and Hermione. They were fully in their own world, the fight switched onto Hermione’s reluctance to take the year off and travel with Ron. They’d probably run off to Ron’s bedroom soon. This was about the point. He looked back to Luna.  
  
“And then there were two,” Neville chuckled. Luna quirked an eyebrow as she kept picking at grass and hummed a ‘hm?’  
  
“Oh, nothing, just, um, I-“ Neville mumbled.  
  
“Can I show you something right now?” Luna interjected. Neville furrowed his brow, mouth slipping open as he worked together a response. Luna didn’t wait for him to gather himself and yanked his hand until he was up and following her up the hill behind the house.  
  
“Where are we going?” Neville asked after a minute of walking with his hand clasped in Luna’s. The house and Ron and Hermione were starting to grow small behind them.  
  
“My house. It’s just a little bit past here,” Luna said, focus forward and uninterrupted. Neville stared back at the house once more and Luna paused, “I’m sure they really won’t mind. The couples, they’re quite preoccupied with each other, anyways. We will be back before supper.”  
  
Neville nodded, looking over his shoulder as Luna started tugging him again. Ron and Hermione were making up, with Ron opening his arms and Hermione falling in them. Ron looked up, spotting Neville and Luna and their hands joined, and held up a thumbs up. Most of the group had begun harboring the assumption that Neville was hopelessly in love with Luna, sparked by his confession to Harry and Ginny that he was ‘mad for her.’ He wasn’t. He couldn’t deny that Luna was gorgeous, in an offbeat way, and that she had a mystic wonder around her, but love was an extreme exaggeration. He had been out of his mind with anxiety and near death energy when he’d made his confession, and he barely remembered saying it. He certainly couldn’t recall if he had told Luna, like he had said he would, but nothing came of it even if he had. He wouldn’t mention it to her. No response felt better than a rejection. Neville rolled his eyes at Ron and shrugged him off with a wave of his hand.  
  
Luna’s father was there when they got to the house with his quill in hand working on a new article. He shot up when he saw them, moving to kiss Luna’s head. He ran his palm against the blonde silk at the top of her scalp, slow and gentle, and muttered something to her. Luna grinned. Xenophilius noticed Neville after a moment and tossed his arms up, suddenly excited. He paced over and shook Neville’s hand, telling him he had heard good things and wished Luna would bring friends over more often. Luna promised she would, but that her and Neville really needed to go upstairs.  
  
“Your dad’s nice.”  
  
“Yes, he’s very sweet. Mum always thought so,” Luna said as they trailed the stairs. The stairwell was painted with flowers that seemed to bloom as they passed. Luna always had a skill with enchanting pictures and paintings. Neville watched her trail her arm, freckled and pale, over the flowers. Her spindly fingers tapped the wall, and Neville found himself focused in on her pink nail polish. He liked her details, all her colors and spots and intricacies. He kept staring until he had reached her bedroom.  
  
“I don’t often have friends over. I think father might have been surprised,” Luna mumbled outside her door. Neville felt a pang of familiarity. It was nice to have Friday’s, but he still sometimes wished he had someone to fill part of the heavy silence and tortuous boredom that was his life outside of the once a week meetings.  
  
“Why don’t you have Ginny over? She’s so close,” he asked, but he knew. He knew that it was the same as why he sat against the wall for majority of his Friday. Luna shrugged.  
  
“She has Harry and I’d hate to be a bother. They are so awfully smitten, what with all the shagging,” Luna explained. Neville smirked.  
  
“Oh, they really are awful with it, huh? I wonder how they don’t work themselves to exhaustion,” Neville said, glad to have the excuse to vent, because as much as he understood the need for release at all hours, it was alienating to witness them try to tackle each other in every setting.  
  
“Oh, I’m glad you think so, too. Ginny is so dear to me, but, Merlin, they are much too much,” Luna said, and Neville felt warm and at home seeing her smile as she spoke to him, “well, let’s go in.”  
  
She pushed open the door. The room smelled overwhelming like lavender and ylang ylang and the walls were plastered with murals of exotic gardens and maps and Indian looking tapestries. Neville stepped in further, surrounded by the beaming Luna energy of everything. Luna stepped up and placed a hand on Neville’s back. Neville pushed back against the touch, a little cautious still, but touch felt so good lately, so necessary.  
  
“This is what I’d like to show you,” Luna said, a finger up towards the ceiling. Neville tilted up slightly and stumbled when he saw his own face gleaming at him. It radiated an energy he might have had before the war, but he was sure he hadn’t ever been that brave or confident. Everyone else up there looked like their best versions of themselves as well, skin gleaming, smiles wide enough to hurt, and an overall air of carefree Neville struggled to remember existing.  
  
“Wow, Luna, that’s . . .” Neville was at a loss, surprised how much it hit him, to see that memory of their group, not exactly how it was-Ron and Harry never payed that much attention to him until recently, Hermione was his acquaintance at best- but how he’d like to picture it before things crumbled.  
  
“I painted it my fifth year over Christmas holiday. Father told me Harry, Ron and Hermione had seen it already, and Ginny passed through one day with Harry, so it was only you who hadn’t had a chance. I think I did a splendid job with you, though I do need to fix your hair, I suppose. It’s much more wildly rugged now.”  
  
Neville went a little red. Rugged was a new word for himself, though he doubted it would get much use outside of conversation with Luna.  
  
“Should add my scar, too, then. If we’re updating,” Neville muttered. He thought of a full update, with dark bags under Harry’s eyes, Ron morose, but hiding it, and Harry and Ginny fucking in the corner. His lip curled down and his nose scrunched at the thought.  
  
“That’s quite rugged, too. You should be proud,” Luna said. Neville shot her a look. His scar was nothing more that a lasting mark of what he’d been through, inescapable and gross.  
  
“Don’t say that, please,” he gulped. Luna’s eyes tightened at the comment.  
  
“Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you, Neville. You should be proud, though. You did so much for so many of us. Our courageous leader, truly,” Luna assured. Those words might have seemed mocking from someone else, but Luna seemed to lack the ability to be fake with anyone. She reached her hand up, pink nails pushing Neville’s bangs back. Neville felt sweaty and tense at the touch. Molly touching him there had been a mother tending to a wound, Luna felt like an invasion. Yet, he stayed still as Luna trailed one delicate finger down the slight curve of the scar. Neville shivered.  
  
“Thanks, but, ah, um,” Neville tugged away, and Luna’s arm fell with a pout on her face, “sorry, I just. Don’t touch that.”  
  
“Alright. Shall we sit then?” Luna said, turning on a dime like nothing had happened. Neville needed a moment to recover, and stood hunched as he watched Luna settle on her bed. He sighed, and sat with his butt half on Luna’s violet sheets. He looked at Luna, grinning up at him expectantly with her hair spread like an silvery ocean across her pillow, and sucked in a big breath, found every ounce of his courage, and laid back next to her. He felt like a big lug on her twin mattress, especially next to elfish Luna.  
  
“I-uh,” Neville started, but nothing came. He had never been on a girl’s bed before, except his Gran’s, but that didn’t count.  
  
“I don’t think Hermione and Ron are very fond of me,” Luna said, filling his silence. They were staring up the bright faces of the aforementioned couple, Hermione’s hair less frizzy than in real life and Ron’s smile more even.  
  
“Ah, Luna, no. They just . . . they’re hot headed,” Neville said, but he knew Luna was right. Luna was only just tolerated by them, and they didn’t hide that fact very well. They didn’t exactly dislike her, but their lack of patience for her and all the abnormality that came with her was clear.  
  
“I don’t mind. I’m sure they have their reasons,” Luna hummed and Neville a stirring deep in his gut. He had heard those words echo in himself. He heard them when he had overheard Dean calling a fat dunce fourth year. He watched his weight since then. He heard them when Seamus and Ron had mimicked his laugh and compared him to donkey. He stopped laughing so much after that. He wouldn’t let Luna say it, even if she really didn’t care, even if she was happy with how things were. He couldn’t let Luna give any of her self away.  
  
“No, Luna, no. You don’t deserve that. They’re damn gits, both of them,” Neville sat up, suddenly fiery. Luna scrunched her forehead, and Neville just huffed, “You’re amazing, so incredible and unique and fun, and Ron and Hermione, they’re my mates and all, but they are idiots not to like you.”  
  
Neville’s straight posture fell after his declaration and his head tucked back against his chest. He was sure that was way too much to have said, revealed too many feelings, some he hadn’t even defined for himself. But, Luna wasn’t fazed. She was smiling, soft enough that it barely wrinkled her cheeks, and radiating a feeling of gentle joy and serenity.  
  
“That’s very sweet,” Luna eased. She leaned over to Neville, and before Neville could scramble to clarify and downplay his statement, she pressed her lips against his.  
  
Neville only wasted half a moment of wide eyed surprise before kissing her back. While there was the underlying shock still that he was on a girl’s bed and she was kissing him and it wasn’t out of pity, he had a slight suspicion, or maybe, if he was honest with himself, a slight hope, that Luna had invited him back to her house with the intention of something happening.  
  
Neville’s last kiss had been months ago, and years since the one before that. Ginny had been his first kiss ever, after the Yule Ball. He had accidentally bit her lip, Ginny’s teeth had crashed against his, and they both decided after that they were better as friends. Lavender had come after her, in the middle of their awful seventh year. She had needed a shoulder to cry on about her fear that life would never be the same again, that she would die under Voldemort’s regime, and somehow that had transitioned into Neville’s tongue in her mouth and her hand rubbing him over his trousers. Neville had planned asking her to go steady if the world ever went back to normal, but then he found out she had pulled the same act with Seamus the next night and that hope died. Still, her death hit Neville as though he had loved her for years.  
  
Luna touched him better than either of those two. Her touch was like healing, like bandages over scars inside and out. He didn’t realize how bad he had been needing touch until she did it. He didn’t realize how little anyone touched him, how little he was close to people. Luna felt like she needed that too, desperation in her kiss, and Neville was glad he could help. She tasted like peaches on his lips and when her hair was surrounding him, he felt warmth and comfort.  
  
Luna pulled back after a minute, stepping over him and off the bed to gather some things in a purse. Neville didn’t move. He was still processing and working out a way to cover up the tent in his pants.  
  
“That was nice. Thank you, Neville,” Luna said. She was pinning her hair back with a rainbow hair clip, and looking effortlessly calm, minus a minor tint of red across her cheeks. Neville, on the other hand, resembled a beet, “Should we be heading back? I’m sure Mrs. Weasley would be rather hurt if weren’t there for supper. It’s chicken roast.”  
  
Neville nodded and gathered himself. He waited until Luna was turned away, and tucked his cock up so his erection wasn’t so obvious. The bulge was lessened, but not gone. He puffed and settled himself with that fact. Luna turned back, bright and chipper and totally unchanged. Neville was a little offended.  
  
They trekked back to the Burrow through meadow and hills, silent exceptt for Luna’s brief comments about creatures and fairies she supposedly saw off in the distance. Neville was shaken, but he tried not to let her see that. Women wanting him was not a well known territory.  
  
Ron and Ginny both waggled their eyebrows at Neville when him and Luna returned together. Neville rolled his eyes, but he knew his blush was undeniable.  
  
Supper was delicious, as it always was there. Neville hated to admit it, but Molly was bounds better than his Gran at cooking. Luna was seated across from him, and Neville tried to keep himself from openly staring at her and trying to understand what she meant to do with that kiss. Luna was positively indifferent, as far as he could tell, and he almost wondered if she was embarrassed. He had to remind himself once again that he was nothing to embarrassed over, and besides, Luna wasn't one to look down on him like that.  
  
The night concluded soon after supper, goodbyes beginning once the dishes were in the sink. Hermione and Harry stayed, as they did most Fridays, and, well, most nights in general, and Luna was still just a brief walk from her house. Neville was the only one who had to floo.  
  
“Neville?” Luna chirped as Neville approached the fire place.  
  
“Yeah?” Neville said, hopeful despite his best judgment.  
  
“I hope you will come over again soon. It was delightful afternoon,” she said. Neville hesitated, floo powder clutched in his fist. There was something about Luna’s smile, something tricky and demure under the surface, that made his heart beat fast. He nodded.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, ‘course. I’ll owl you,” he grinned, too wide but he didn’t really care.  
  
“Good,” Luna said. Neville bounced on his heels, too happy for his own good, and threw his powder against the fire, already trying to find an excuse to come back to Luna’s silver saucer eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for how late this is, ahh! Summer has been insane and I started a new job, so alas, poor Luna and Neville fell by the way side.  
> But! This chapter is done, and hopefully good, lol, so here ya go!

Neville, over the the next few weeks of July, found himself at the Lovegood residence more often than not. It wasn’t exactly like he was going out of his way to spend all his time with Luna, but, Luna’s owl would be at his window with a invitation, and he had yet to find a reason to say no.  
  
There was always an excuse for them to see each other. Luna asked Neville for brunches often, which he had grown to enjoy. Xenophilous shared the same intricate oddness as Luna, but Neville had adapted to him after three or four meals. The father and daughter pair had grown on Neville, to the point where their personalities felt like a certain type of normal to him.  
  
Neville tended to be wherever Luna was, mostly by coincidence, somewhat by Neville’s own work. It was simple really, to just reschedule when he was going to help with the Hogwarts rebuild so it aligned with Luna, or to buy extra food at the market so his Gran would end up making enough to excuse inviting Luna over. Luna seemed to be playing into it, too, considering her frequent invitations for Neville to assist with her creature scoutings.  
  
They tried not to abandon the Friday group to be alone, or at least, not too often. Neville knew what Friday’s meant, how desperately they all held onto it, even if they all splintered into their own groups, even if he wasn’t sure if him being there meant anything to anyone. Though, the temptation to run through the tall grass and hide away in Luna’s sweet smelling bedroom was unavoidable sometimes.  
  
“Do you ever feel mad at Draco?” Neville asked, Luna tucked into the crook of his arm. They talked about everything now. Neville had been shocked at how easy they dropped their boundaries, but Luna felt like someone who wouldn’t judge him, even with his darkest memories and confessions.  
  
“Draco?” Luna asked. Her brow furrowed as she fiddled with a button on Neville’s shirt. Neville huffed, cheeks red.  
  
“The . . . the, Malfoy Manor? Aren’t you upset? I . . . he let that happen,” Neville said. His chest felt warm suddenly, only getting hotter as he thought of Luna being taken away on the train, taken off to torture, taken away from him. Luna was not affected.  
  
“Hm,” Luna hummed, lost in her mind and unreadable by Neville. She’d drift like this often, and he’d try to give her the time she needed to be off somewhere, thinking, “well, no. Draco was a troubled soul. He was fighting, too, you know. Though not like us I suppose. But still, I know he wasn’t bad, truly, just a bit misdirected.”  
  
Neville blinked at her, but Luna was musing still. She was beyond perplexing. Neville was almost upset, that she didn’t seem to hurt like him. He was so angry still, at everyone who had been against them. Bellatrix, even if she was dead, still made him want to blow up walls, and curse, and cry. And thinking of Luna suffering, thinking of all the wrongs those sickly lowlife Malfoys did, he wanted to strangle that pureblood, blond prick in his sleep for letting it happen. Neville hadn’t known himself to be violent, but he believed he could kill now, when certain people were concerned. But Luna didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t need that. He held his tongue and tugged her closer.  
  
“I . . . it was different at Hogwarts, with you not there. Everyone looked up to us, y’know? It was you, Ginny, and me, leading the pack, and then, you were gone, and people, well, they got scared.”  
  
“I missed you all, terribly so. I wanted, more than anything, to write while I was there. To you and Ginny, mostly, oh, and father, too, of course. I just wanted to let you know that I was still in support, on your side. Fighting the good fight, as it goes,” Luna mused. Neville leaned over her, so his head and shoulders were curving around her hair, and he twisted a few strands around his fingers.  
  
“I knew,” he muttered, and let everything stay silent for a moment. Luna was peace, in every sense, and suddenly, Draco didn’t matter anymore. Suddenly, he was cooling off, “Ginny didn’t come back after Easter. Did she tell you that? I lost my both my best mates. When you were back . . . Luna, it was bloody amazing.”  
  
“I’m one of your best mates?” Luna asked, beaming bigger than Neville had seen her do in a while. He chuckled, and he was grinning, too, because Luna was contagious.  
  
“Course you are.” Neville said, brushing the hair he had playing with back down behind her ear. Luna leaned against his palm, and he sighed.  
  
She was radiant, sun gleaming through her silky strands, just a bit of blusher dusted over her face, lips naturally pink. She shined, from her core out through every part of her, flowing like water and gushing out in beams from her skin. Neville didn’t know why he hadn’t taken the time to notice all this sooner.  
  
He kissed her forehead, and she giggled. They didn’t kiss every time they were alone, and didn’t discuss it when they did, but Neville tried to find moments to press his lips against Luna’s freckled, soft skin, and breath in her coconut and passionfruit shampoo, her summer sweat, and her flowery perfume dabbed onto her collar bone when he could.  
  
Luna titled with a quick flick of her head into a kiss. Her tongue trailed Neville’s lower lip, and he let his mouth part and took her in. He slipped his too big fingers through the web of her hair and pulled her up. She teased him for a moment, fingers slipping just under his shirt and onto his hip, tracing circles and making him twitch with the idea of it, but she pulled away after a second. She laughed to herself, a small wisp of a sound and sat up into a stretch.  
  
Neville huffed. He was hard against the zipper of his pants, and blotched red on his cheeks and down the tip of his nose. Luna was humming non-sense, disjunct tones, and each note hit Neville in the center of his chest, making him want to scoop Luna up and silence those little quips of sound with his mouth and his tongue and his hands on her body.  
  
Neville didn’t. Luna was pulling her socks up and she was sure to slip into her shoes and bustle up and out towards the Burrow soon. The side of his lip twitched watching her, and he grunted as he shifted his trousers. He was starting to wonder if she found his sexual frustration amusing, because she always seemed to get him the most worked up right before they had somewhere to be. He tried to read her smile for hints of mischief.  
  
Once they were back at the Burrow, they parted. Luna was taken off in a flurry by Ginny and Hermione to Ginny’s bedroom and Neville wandered to the couch as she disappeared up the stair case, sitting in on Harry and George’s discussion of the Quidditch season.  
  
“The Kestrels are doing well. Think they could make it to the Cup?” Harry asked. George shrugged, and his shoulders moved like they weighed a hundred pounds each.  
  
“Dunno, Harpies are good, too,” George looked back, catching Neville’s eye, and gave him a tilt of his chin. Neville nodded back, mouth twitching into a smile that George didn’t return, “I’m gonna go check on Mum and the food.” He stood with a sigh and a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder. He hesitated for a moment on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry gulped, looking ready for the worst. George just turned away, silent, and moved himself to the kitchen. Harry stood once he as gone and flopped down next to Neville on the couch.  
  
“Merlin,” Harry mumbled. Neville nodded, and the air became weighted with tension. He sucked in some air.  
  
“So,” Harry said after a long minute, “you and Luna. That, um. That’s going, huh?”  
  
“Oh. Ha, um,” Neville chuckled, and he knew he must be going some unappealing shade of red, “I dunno. We’ve, uh, snogged, a-a bit, so there’s . . that, but Luna, she’s tad hard to crack, so who knows.”  
  
Neville went clammy once he had finished talking, aware only after he had spoken that he might have said too much. He feared for a moment of this getting back to Luna, and that his kissing and telling could be his own doom. Harry just beamed at him, sitting on the edge of smirk.  
  
“Snogging? Nice, mate. Though I guess I should’ve assumed, with how much you two sneak off together.”  
  
“We try not to do it too often. Ah, sneaking off from Friday’s, that is.” Neville had hoped that had done it sporadically enough to be discreet, but he realized running off to Luna’s just the two of them was blatant, no matter what they did.  
  
“S’alright. I mean, I know it’s nice, having something like that. Ginny says Luna brings you up, y’know?” Harry said. Neville hadn’t known. He grinned, feeling like he had been finally given a piece to the puzzle. Like he hadn’t been completely bonkers in reading into the kissing.  
  
“That’s . . . I, that’s good. I, um. I’m real fond of her, but, don’t make it a big deal. She’s just . . . she’s good to talk to,” Neville said, catching himself smiling at the end of each word and failing to stop himself.  
  
“Yeah. I think so, too. Luna’s good conversation, even if I only get bout half of it,” Harry said. Neville looked up and caught Harry’s glance. There was something in the way he looked at him, almost proud, surely pleased, and the way he spoke, that made Neville think he understood Luna in the same way as him. Neville appreciated that, more than he expected to. He looked at Harry for a moment and tried to gather up his thoughts into some sort of thank you or an acknowledgment of their like minds, but Ron stuck his head in and yelled that Molly wanted everyone in for supper. Harry shot up, joining Ron, and Neville let the moment go.  
  
The girls came down in a group. Luna’s hair had been done up in a bun since Neville had last seen her. He watched the mound wobble on top of her head and decided Luna’s hair was boggling and enchanting in all forms.  
  
The conversation at supper was full that night, mostly on the girls part, who seemed to have gotten all worked up in their time in Ginny’s room, though Ron was doing his fair share of yelling across the table as well. Arthur and Molly were sat at the heads of either side of the long table, and even they were jumping into it with everyone. Arthur and Harry were talking Muggle television at one end and Molly and Ginny were giving their all to engage George in gossip about Fleur at the other. Neville felt wrapped up and taken with it all, making actual conversation for once, with anyone, and smiling at Luna unabashedly. The night, without any clear reasoning, had become an enigma of sorts, one of utter freedom and solidarity that was hard to achieve so unanimously, and everyone felt like they were of one unit. Neville felt as though they might all be offered a cuppa and a hand knit, monogramed sweater before the night ended. He wondered if this would have ever happened before the war.  
  
Arthur and Molly wandered to curl up together on a bench in the back garden after the meal with some tea, and the adolescent group took the living room.  
  
George was engaging, miraculously, and he and Ron had gone in on Hermione again about the joke shop. Based on the lack of cursing or huffing on her part, Neville thought she might even be coming around.  
  
Luna was near him the whole night, perched on the arm of his chair for most of it. She, as always, was gleaming with bright joy and intrigue, and Neville fed on it. He was talking, shouting even, in the midst of all this, with Luna by his side, and he felt like he could glow, too. He never glowed, never beamed with effortless charm or bursted with spirit, but Luna was draping her legs over his and wrapping his arm around her waist, and Ron was ruffling his hair and treating him like he wasn’t just that awkward fat bloke he sort of knew, and George was actually smiling, and sort of felt he could be the type of person who glowed, maybe even half as much as Luna, if he was lucky.  
  
They didn’t break things up until three in the morning. Neville was stumbling by the end of the night. Ginny, Ron, George, and him had been passing around a flask of Firewhiskey in discreet movements, and he felt it when he stood to take Luna back to her house.  
  
Neville slipped over his own feet, hand in hand with Luna as they stumbled over the hill.  
  
“Lovely, lovely night. All the stars are twinkling,” Luna said. She twisted her head up at the sky, stumbling back and against Neville’s arm. Neville smiled down at her hair and, overwhelmed by the fresh, just barely chilled air, and his own inebriated confidence, kissed her scalp and muttered that she was lovelier.  
  
Luna turned, flopping into him with a delighted hum. Neville hadn’t seen Luna take sips from the flask, but she seemed sloshed when she hung her arms around his neck and dangled there. She kissed him, smiling into it, and Neville was sure she was half gone. He still kissed back.  
  
She pulled away, finding Neville’s hand again. She tugged and they were moving again. Neville sucked in his lips. They tasted like booze and oranges.  
  
“I think I’m going to Africa soon,” Luna said, watching her feet step through an unkept section of grass, “In Guinea, or, uh, Zambia, I think. I’ll study new, um, new magical creatures. Won’t be for a few months, though.”  
  
Neville sobered, suddenly, and he stopped in his tracks. Luna eased herself to a stop and looked back to him.  
  
“Are you happy for me, love?” she asked. Neville stared at her openly for a minute. Her cheeks were flush from either the cold air or the alcohol, and she was spacey and paying no attention to Neville’s shock.  
  
He wasn’t sure if he was happy. It did make sense, Luna running off to a foreign country to study creatures Neville wasn’t sure even existed. Luna wasn’t the type of soul to be tied down to Devin. He was sure she would send him charming letters. He swallowed up the lump in his chest and forced himself into a smile.  
  
“Sounds very nice.”  
  
“Will you come in for a spot? I have this lovely new lavender rose tea,” she said. Neville shrugged, but then nodded and stomped up to the door with her, because of course he would. He fell sort of victim of her whims.  
  
Luna put the kettle on for them as they tip-toed around the dark kitchen, and winced when it hummed too loud. She poured them tea and they took their cups up to her bedroom.  
  
Neville put his cup down as soon as they had settled in the room. He wasn’t all that interested in it, as his body jittered with the warmth of alcohol and he was worried the tea might not mix well with that. He paced the room for a moment, until discovering a tiny plant on Luna’s desk and becoming fascinated.  
  
“Dittany bush, huh? Y’know, you can grind this up and put on wounds and scars and stuff to heal them,” he said, maybe too loud for this time of night, gliding his thumb across one of the fuzzy leaves. He straightened up and turned back to Luna.  
  
“Oh,” he said, stumbling back and bumping into the table. Luna had slipped her skirt off, her top hanging just barely over her thighs, “I . . . Luna, ah.”  
  
Luna was still for a moment, and Neville’s heart jumped seeing her there, barely lit but some how still unavoidable in the darkness of her room, but then she moved closer.  
  
He gulped when she moved his too big hands to rest on her hips. He was certain he was sweating, or that he’d fumble with her top. She didn’t comment on his hands. She just brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at him, lip twitching at the corners. He thought she might have been nervous, and he’d never seen her nervous.  
  
“Are you . . . do you want to . . .?” he asked. Luna blushed.  
  
“Yes, I . . . I think I would like to very much.”  
  
Neville licked his lips. His hands were still on her hips, and, cautiously, he tightened his grip. Luna felt small to him like this, under his hand, and he doubted if he was really fit for a figure as delicate looking as her. He loosened his hands again.  
  
“Your dad, he’s right cross the hall. If we wake him-” Neville whispered, snapping into sense and realizing it was three in the morning and he had Xenophilius’s daughter half naked in front of him.  
  
“I put up a silencing charm,” Luna told him, just as quiet despite what she had just said. Neville let his eyes look up and catch her’s. She had moved closer sometime in the past few moments and she was easily in kissing distance. This fact made his neck clam up.  
  
Luna sighed after another moment of stillness, and Neville tracked the tiny fall of her smile, the minuscule adjustment of her face. She was not sad, he didn’t think, but maybe closer to resigned. He swallowed down nerves and swooped her into a kiss.  
  
They both still tasted like Firewhiskey. He broke it off quick, and her face fell again.  
  
“You’ve-we’ve been drinking. Ah Merlin, I’m nearly pissed. I don’t want you to . . .” he trailed, the word regret catching in him. Luna shook her head rough, like she had caught the thought in his head.  
  
“You’re not taking advantage, not at all, if that is what you’re worried about. I . . . I’ve been thinking about this for a good while.” She smiled again, red faced from the alcohol, and lips glistening. She was too much for him.  
  
“I’ve never, uh, done . . this, before.” He clammed up as he said it, but he caught himself. Luna wouldn’t care. If anyone should know it, it should be her.  
  
“Hmm, well, neither have I, so I think that should be okay.” She leaned in, kissing Neville’s temple. He sighed into the contact, pulling back to take her in.  
  
Neville wanted her right then. He didn’t want to hold himself from this anymore. Luna was lovely in every sense. Her legs were bony and rubbing against each other, freckles wrapping around her thighs. Her blouse was too big and exposing her shining shoulder, and her hair was falling in strands out of her bun, and her smile was big and bright and made Neville want to wrap her up in his arms forever.  
  
He kissed once again, dipping up and catching her lips. He could feel her grin against him. She slipped away with giggle.  
  
“Hmm,” Luna eased and her hand raised to brush back his bangs. Neville’s scar was on full view. It must of looked ghastly, even in the dark. He had examined it that morning and the scab was a pulsing red. Luna was brushing his hair back like it didn't even exist, though.  
  
“Neville Longbottom, you are incredible,” Luna murmured under her breath. The words flowed across Neville like a cool breeze. He hadn't felt comfortable with his scar since he had received it, but he was still floating on a buzz and Luna was grinning at it, and he felt happy with it. Honestly, he felt damn near brave.  
  
Neville was about to swoop in on Luna’s lips again, but she beat him too it, tripping over a foot and smashing her lips against him like a punch. He stumbled back but caught himself and steadied with his hands on her hips. He let his fingers dance down her back and up under her blouse. The skin was just barely damp, summer sweat drying in the night. She wasn’t wearing underwear, Neville found, and he glided his hand from the small of her back, to her hip bone, and finally resting on her ass.  
  
“So, so, nice,” Luna said, ever breathy and light. Neville mumbled a ‘hmm yeah’, and dove his head under her ear to suck on her delicious looking neck. Luna started pulling on his belt, and he kicked of his shoes in a rush.  
  
Neville was stripped down before he knew it, only underwear tented by his own member and brown socks. He brought his attention to Luna’s yellowy, overly large blouse and started undoing each button, slow and delicate as the task seemed to demand. It slipped off Luna after four buttons undone, collecting around her feet, and she was naked in front of him.  
  
“Merlin, Luna,” Neville said under his breath. Her breasts were even paler then the rest of her, making her nipples look rosy and intense. They were perky and petite, feeling appropriate for her elfish form. He reached a hand out to grab one.  
  
“Thank you. I . . . I, well, they’re quite nice I suppose, though I’ve never had much to judge it by,” she said. Her nipples were hard against Neville’s hand and he hummed a sound of pleasure.  
  
Luna guided him to the bed, sprawling herself across the sheets and pillows. Neville stood over her for moment, licking his lips and evaluating. For a moment, he was anxious to have her like this, eager and inebriated, but he gathered himself and moved on top her, his need for her outweighing everything else.  
  
They kissed for a moment, before Luna gave Neville’s shoulders a gentle push and tossed her head back. Neville was glad there was some signals he could read. He trailed down her body with kisses, in love with the feeling of her twitching under it, and let his head fall between her legs.  
  
Luna was open before him, blooming and bountiful. He ran a finger across her warm, wet, oh so soft skin, from clit to her hole, and she hummed her approval. He slipped a finger into her, and chanced a weak smile when she gasped. He didn’t know it would feel like that. That it would be so different from anything else he knew before, that he’d be awestruck with it.  
  
Neville, while he had some basic knowledge, did not, in any stretch, feel that he was equipped to be given access to such a beautiful, intimidating part of Luna. He knew how it was supposed to be done, sort of, from the low-grade, lewd moving pictures the boys at Hogwarts would buy from a shop in the nasty part of Diagon Alley. While he rather fancied looking at the naked, brass, and inviting women as they moved and flexed and moaned silent curses, he knew those poses weren’t real life, or not ones he could ever in his wildest delusions and imaginings hope to reproduce for a girl he was with. Especially not his first time, especially not drunk and anxious to boot.  
  
He moved slow at first, one finger pressing in and out of Luna like he was pressing a button repeatedly. He rested a thumb on her clit and worked it back and forth, and then up and down, and then faster when she had guided him to do so.  
  
“Like that, yes. You, ah, yes, that-that’s right there,” Luna said, drawing back her hand from over his. Neville watched her face as she withdrew. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sucked in a lip with a grin and giddy little twitch. Her eyelashes were light. Neville could almost call them silver. They batted at him, entrancing as a Veela dance as he kept working his thumb the way she had guided.  
  
He hesitated for a probably too long before introducing his mouth, nerves and general feeling of stupidity of women to blame, but he hoped against hope he was doing alright.  
  
Luna’s hand was deep in his shaggy hair, and Neville suspected that she was leading him again, albeit gently. A soft nudge of his head with her ring finger, or a shift and a moan as she leaned her hips to the right. He didn’t mind her prodding, as long as they were continuing on and he was still touching her.  
Neville thought Luna felt unbelievably warm against his tongue and lips. It was like a blanket around him, with her thighs radiating heat onto his cheeks and her knees above his shoulders and on him with a calming weight. Her muffled hums and great intakes of breath and giggles when Neville would kiss her thighs or touch her in a spot that made her tingle, were a symphony of almost music. Neville wished he could have Luna’s sounds playing in the back of his head whenever he wanted.  
  
“That, uh, that alright, huh?” Neville said, low and thick. He was rubbing the outside of Luna’s thigh as he asked. His heart caught in his throat, despite himself, because somehow he still doubted she wanted this, because somehow this had to fall apart. It was him. Luna just smiled and nodded, brushing a thumb across his hot cheek. Her grin was toothy, obnoxiously big, and undeniably transfixing and Neville was grateful when she inched down and bent at the waist to kiss him.  
  
“You know,” Luna eased, straightening back up, and Neville stared up at her, dragging his fingers along her lips and around her hole and making her huff and grin, “I was always fascinated by you at school. I . . . I don’t think you noticed, but I loved to watch you. Especially at the DA. You were such a marvel.”  
  
Neville stared at her, her large blue eyes vignetted between her legs, and slowed his fingers movements. He had heard her, taken in the words and let them sit, but he wasn’t sure he understood. Luna had handed him yet another riddle, trick to decipher as she giggled at him and looked at him under her drooping lids. He smiled at her, though, cause she was shifting on her elbows and humming at his touch and something told him she had said something meaningful.  
  
“Uh, thanks, Luna.”  
  
He went to dip his head back down, back into Luna’s wet heat, back into her pink, soft, flowering self, but Luna caught him first around his neck. In a move that seemed somehow inexplicable considering his size relative to Luna’s, Luna pulled him up, stole a brief kiss, and landed him on his back below her poised form.  
  
“Oh, ah, right then,” Neville said as Luna shifted again, so that her knees sat on either side of his hips, and her pelvis wobbled above his. Suddenly, as if the thought hadn’t reached his mind yet, Neville came to the realization that they were really going to have sex. He had just seen a vagina in person for the first time ever, he was about to give away to virginity to a girl he hadn’t consciously known he wanted until a few weeks ago. He gulped.  
  
Luna pulled her wand from her bun in a swish of her arm and waved it a circle around her stomach. She was muttering a spell under her breath, a shielding charm it seemed. Neville went a bit red, wondering if he should have offered to assist, or cast something on himself. He knew spells of this nature. He was eighteen, and boys talked, of course.  
  
“I could’ve, uh, if you want-” Neville offered, for no real purpose, since the spell was cast and her wand was tucked away in her mound of her shimmery hair. Luna shook her head roughly with a snicker, and Neville was reminded of both her drunkenness and his own.  
  
“No, no, Neville, I know my own contraceptive spells. Shh . . .” Luna came down to his lips in almost a fall like motion and flopped into a kiss. Neville grabbed her with his hand pulling her down, pressing her into the kiss and his tongue across the part of her lips. He moaned into her and muttered her name in a low, shaky breath. Luna, Luna, Luna. It was filling them up.  
  
Luna lowered herself onto his member, which was painfully hard by this point, and they both gasped at the joining of themselves.  
  
“Ah, yes, that’s nice,” Luna nearly hissed. Neville bucked up into her, unable to stop, wanting her, being in her, being connected to her, like he didn’t know he could.  
  
Luna rocked herself, bouncing in a rhythm up and down Neville’s cock. She looked like she knew what she was doing, even if she didn’t, and Neville felt that he should maybe let her take control, sit back and watch her twist and hum and grin and giggle. Watching her could be enough for him, if she’d let him.  
  
Neville brought a hand up in a delicate motion, letting it wander to Luna and touch her, finger rubbing her in between her lips. She shivered in reaction and Neville gasped a moan.  
  
“Ah, Luna, Merlin, you-you’re so good,” Neville jolted as Luna smiled at him and slipped her hand under herself and teased her fingers across his balls, “Yeah, that’s, oh-oh, fuck, yeah.”  
  
They kept touching like this, Neville rubbing Luna, Luna squeezing him. Neville didn't know how Luna did this so well, how she seemed to know how to make him squirm, know exactly what he needed before he could even articulate it. He grabbed her hips, bucking into her a few more times, maybe too fast, and hoped he was at least giving a little bit back of what she was giving him.  
  
Neville didn’t deserve this. His hands were too rough against Luna’s hip, his stomach looked flabby and body unkempt compared to her slender little waist and spindly thighs, he was grunting too loud and being too rough. His hands had hurt people, hands had flicked his wand and killed, hands unworthy to touch someone like they were soft and not tarnished.  
  
Guilt brushed Neville over for a moment, wondering if he should be allowed this, allowed to reveal and pleasure when others, like Lavender, like Colin, like Fred, couldn’t. But, when he looked up at Luna, who was so warm, rocking on him with her eyes barely open and cheeks flushed, his guilt shed away and he melted.  
  
“Luna . . .” he started. Why shouldn’t they have this? Why shouldn't he get to be touched again, let his damage body be relieved? They were alive. Luna was touching him and he felt like he was on fire in a way he hadn’t felt since the war. Neville sat up, fumbling to keep Luna on him, and kissed her hard, one hand on the back of her neck to keep her in it, keep them united. When he pulled back, his face felt wet.  
  
“Neville, you’re cr-” Luna said, slowing her bobbing on him to stand still and bringing a hand up to his face. Neville gulped. He didn’t mean to cry. Luna just smelled so nice, and he couldn’t believe she was with him, couldn’t believe they could even do this. He went bright red, tossing his hand up and covering his eyes.  
  
“Bugger, I. Merlin, this is . . . I’m sorry, didn’t mean to . . . I can’t believe I did this, sorry,” Neville said, and his stomach boiled with jitters and anxious bile.  
  
“No,” Luna said. She leaned to him, kissing under his eyes, kissing away his flush, kissing every inch of his face, “You worry too much, Neville. Nargles, I believe. It don’t mind it in the slightest.”  
  
Neville laughed, weak but happy. He grabbed her neck just under her hairline, dragging his nails across it, and Luna eased out a light ‘mmhmm’. Neville gathered himself, trying to refocus, regain their drive, and pumped his hips up against Luna. Luna leaned back as he thrust into her, closing her eyes and parting her lips to hiss out a moan.  
  
Neville was reveling in how he felt inside Luna, how tight she was around his member, how much her heat leaked on to him and made him want to shout her name over and over again. He lunged at her, keeping his bucking going, and launched onto her neck, sucking and biting enough to make Luna writhe.  
  
Neville came too quick, he thought, and muttered another apology once he finished. Luna shook him off with a little giggle and kissed his nose, grinning into it.  
  
“Neville Longbottom,” Luna smiled. She fell off him and flopped onto the bed.  
  
“Luna Lovegood,” Neville echoed. They laughed together, and he rolled himself over to wrap Luna up in his arms. He stretched his arm over to grab his wand and scourgified them both before Luna could beat him to it again. Luna pulled a thin sheet over them, letting it gather around their waists, and settled her back against Neville’s chest. Neville figured he was staying the night. He’d have to deal with his Gran yelling at him tomorrow, but it was worth it.  
  
Neville buried his nose in Luna’s hair. It was soft enough for him to fall asleep in it. He held her tighter.  
  
He thought he might love her, and that didn’t terrify him as much as it probably should. He might have loved her for a while, might have been subconsciously falling for her the whole of last year, in hushed conversations while hiding from the Carrows, or in late nights listening to radio reports with Ginny begging to hear good news, or in waiting and hoping and panicking with her kept away from him at Malfoy’s.  
  
He knew Luna was going to Africa, though, and he was happy for her, despite himself. He was alright to have any brief time with her he could. Maybe they would go their separate ways after this summer, with occasional owls and meeting once every few years, and Neville would keep up with his simple life. Maybe they would reunite, if Neville was lucky, and end up wearing matching jumpers on Christmas and having perfectly odd, wispy haired, chubby faced babies. Maybe Neville would even follow her off to foreign lands, though he didn’t think he had the constitution for it.  
  
He loved her then, though, whether it was to last or not, despite all other factors, even if this was only infatuation created from a mix of post-traumatic stress and idle-minded youth.  
  
He loved her. And they would be okay.


End file.
